Silent Celebration
by DarkestWolfx
Summary: The boys look to face their second Christmas without dad, though memory of the first is just as close. TAG set. Just a little Christmas special for you all.


I hope you enjoy and Merry Christmas to everyone out there. Special thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, favourite and alerted my stories this year – you're continued support means a lot to me!

* * *

And _down_.

It was surprising he'd yet broken his back carrying all of this weight alone. It wasn't like it was just one, oh no, they had several different ways of storage, everything labelled and put in its place, nothing mixed without reason, all categorically sorted.

And that was fine. Absolutely fine… at least, when you had _help._

Scott carefully brought the boxes out into the living room, careful not to break anything valuable, inclusive of _his_ back, which was very much damageable as younger faces would remind him. He thought it would be good to start earlier this year than they did last year. Well - considering they flat out _didn't_ make a start last year - the twentieth of December was early for them, not to mention the first (so far) free day they'd had. International Rescue didn't stop. Even for Christmas Day when the rest of the world did. It was strange how someone, somewhere would find a need for them.

It really hadn't mattered last year though. No one had been willing to celebrate.

* * *

Sun.

 _Not_ Winter.

Water.

 _Not_ snow.

Still…

'Gordon, get out of the pool!'

'Why?'

'It's December.' That much, he'd assumed, was obvious despite their islands weather abnormalities for what they were long ago used to.

'We live on a tropical island!'

'Well, yes, but technically-'

'I t-think Scott's trying to say you don't n-normally swim outside at Christmas.'

'Yes, thank you, Brains.' As the intelligent man passed by with MAX following in tow and bleeping as he went, the eldest refocused on the younger hovering in the blue pit. 'Come on Gordon. You've always stayed clear of the pool before for the five Christmas days as you called them.'

It was the only time when you could – willingly – remove the boy from the waters.

'I know.' The younger made that sound incredibly matter of fact: if he'd made it any colder, it would be easy to believe he was swimming in freezing waters.

'Well, it's the twenty fourth.'

'Is it? Gordon sounded as though he was being sarcastic and Scott truly believed he knew what date it was. Alan on the other hand, stepping out from the kitchen at that very moment with a look of complete numbing shock, he was convinced by.

'It is?' He nodded and Alan's eyes widened before his shoulders dropped. For a minute the gaze was starring blank, mouth hanging upon as the youngest tried to form what Scott deduced as a coherent string of words. He managed it after a few stumbles, his words quiet and hard to catch without the 'big brother' practise of the surely already greying eldest. 'We didn't have a calendar this year.'

He could only sigh sadly as Alan stepped back indoors with no chance for anything else to be said, doors shut meekly behind him as a clear 'do not follow me, Scott' indicator, whether intentional or no. It had always been one of Alan's favourite parts of Christmas to take it in turns opening the doors, awaiting the nice images inside. That and snow, something they'd lived without for a long time after moving to their Island. Of course, being a child at the time, Alan hadn't fully understood why they couldn't have snow and the first year on the island upset him. John's solution for the next year was to crush up paper and shower down.

It worked, strangely.

With renewed determination he turned again, suddenly mindful he was closer to the pool edge than memory served. His recoveries were far quicker than his brothers for that sort of thing and Gordon - probably too far gone to blink an eyelid in truth - didn't noticed.

'Come on, Gordon. We can still put the tree up.' _Ignored_. Politely, of course, or so he hoped. Even so, his own tension levels were increasing. 'Would you come out here?'

'Is there an alert?'

Scott knitted his brow together, confused. Gordon _knew_ there wasn't. 'No.'

'Then no.'

He exhaled. _You love him, Scott._ Just remember that, he continued to tell himself as he headed indoors to where Alan sat at the table talking to John over the holo screen. He made the closing of the doors as quiet and smooth as possible, yet even with the slight click he couldn't help Alan remained oblivious as though he was sleeping, locked in full focus with John.

'I don't see how I can Alan.'

'You have before.'

'I know.' John sounded... mournful, regretful, guilty? Definitely something guilt-like in tone.

'So..?'

'I… I don't think so.' Alan looked crushed at the words. 'Sorry, Alan.'

'It… it's alright, bro.' From the guilt-ridden look on John's face he knew it wasn't. 'Can't have you leaving Five alone.'

'Sorry?' Yes, the spaceman definitely zoned out. 'Oh, yes, no.'

'I'll let you go.'

'I'll talk to you again later, Alan.' The younger gave a hum of agreement before their copper haired brother signed off. Scott didn't feel he could make a sound, least of all let Alan know what he'd overheard when he had no words to console the younger whatsoever. Instead he slipped away upstairs to the morbid silence of the living room. Resting on the piano was the top of a brunette head overly recognisable as the middle child despite the still.

The keys of the instrument themselves were silent, the lid was shut down, two muscular arms resting atop them. Eyes were closed too, but expression showed enough even with the orbs stilled and hidden. Usually the room would be filled with Christmas tunes in the gap between rescues, evenings with a little bit of song when a decision could finally be made by all the brothers to sing from the same song sheet.

Virgil was like an unstoppable hurricane when it came to it.

'You not playing anything today?' He moseyed across slowly to rest his arms on the lid opposite the younger whose head lifted no distance, mouth moving alone to mutter.

'Don't know what.' The usually strong voice sounded so strained, completely exhausted.

'You know loads. We go through a whole collection every year.' It would take serious memory loss to make Virgil forget any of the musical arrangements he'd long committed to the working brain.

'Guess so.'

Virgil wasn't _right_. None of them were, in truth, he knew that.

He didn't want to accept _that_.

'Well, we can get the decorations down if you like?' They had a series of foil chain decorations in multiple colour variations which the third Tracy had always sought to arrange with his artistic eye. Not only did the colours have to be in the right place, but the actual decorations. There was no such thing as uneven curves, everything would be stuck to the right place or you could guarantee you'd be stood on your ladder for a century until it was perfect. And Virgil's eyes had spirit levels rulers implanted he was certain.

'Not now.'

That meant 'not ever'.

'Alright.' He didn't want to push, but… he craved something of their usual routine. _Something._ Because something was missing, a large hole in all of their hearts. 'Give me a shout if you change your mind.'

There was nothing else he could think of. He had absolutely no plan for once, no way to unite everyone with something outstanding whether actions or words. He wasn't really sure what to do so in the end he went for a walk. It wasn't like it was _that_ cold.

By the time he'd looped the whole Island _twice_ , including the hangars, including the jungle (unwisely of course), including the house, he was finally back where he started in the still silent, yet now emptied living room, darkness falling like a rolling curtain outside. Gordon had abandoned the pool although he'd hardly travelled far for still he sat at its edge. Alan was now out there too, laying what seemed from his slightly far distanced view to be half awake on the ceramics. Virgil was nowhere in sight.

Though his room would be the likely option for a place to find him he'd ended up collapsed upon the sofa. If he could somehow give his legs the impetus to carry him once more he'd look, but quite truthfully he didn't think they'd hold his weight up should he do so. This year was not their year, what with dad…

He exhaled sharply, rubbing at his eyes to try and clear his mind. Sleeping might help yet it seemed the impossible task. The unreachable, unattainable. For a long while – a long while he couldn't count – he sat in silence with his sole company. But he needed some kind of conversation that much was clear by the nagging in his bones to speak.

Talking to himself seemed a little insane, so he made the only call he could for this sort of situation. Besides, it was a conversation he'd pondered all day about having.

'Scott? What's wrong? It's one o' clock in the morning.' He sounded worried within the stream of letters. Worried enough that the tone was clear over all the others lacing his voice; all the weary waking and silent sulking.

'Sorry John.' He felt incredibly guilty now for calling, especially as he hadn't been aware of the time. But he needed to know the other was alright. 'There's nothing wrong. Did I wake you?'

John raised his brows. 'Do I look like you woke me?' The answer was obvious and far too clear.

 _No._

'Well… you look tired.' He was trying to put it nicely, but John really did look exhausted. In fact, he looked like he lived and breathed it.

The family dreamer chuckled shortly. 'I haven't honestly slept.' John eyes lowered, completely avoiding the screen. 'I don't know why.'

He doubted he could give a perfect explanation for it either. He could certainly try, but what help it would be he thoroughly doubted.

'It's Christmas. The time for love and joy.' The younger's lips curled into a small, temporary smile. 'But it's also about family.'

And right now theirs was broken. _Shattered_ , was the better word, even after months and months of _this._ He didn't even know what it really was. For him, he wouldn't let his mind deem it as grieving. That made it all final. But they had grieved, or they'd certainly tried. He wasn't expecting everything to be rosy, he was just hoping for something more than all this surrounding sadness.

'You're not alone. Alan, Gordon, Virgil… none of them have their hearts in it.'

'Nor do you.' John was staring directly back at him now, though he couldn't recall when that strength had returned to his brother.

'I just… I'm trying to keep things going.' John nodded, glancing down again for a moment before pulling his piercing green orbs back up.

'If it's not there Scott, don't push it.' Honest and true. You could always count on John for that. For those moments of complete clarity even in the deepest dark.

'I know. I just… I wanted things to be normal-'

'Because it hurts less? I know. But it only hurts more when you return.'

John didn't need him to answer. The lack of answer would tell the other that he agreed. He supposed he should let John go. The morning was still early, the dark still hanging. Either way, it was now the twenty fifth. He doubted the decision of yesterday would be overturned, but he needed to ask. At least now he could understand _why_ John had decided that.

He wanted to deal with his grief fully.

'You staying up on Five this year?'

John nodded. 'I think… I need to.'

'It's alright. I understand.' He did. He just missed not having the direct younger around most of the year and at Christmas, well they were usually a family, International Rescue or no. Jokes and humour weren't his field of expertise however his firm decision was to keep trying. 'You're not overly good with gravity anymore anyway.'

John laughed dryly, drowsiness creeping through his bones. He wouldn't sleep though, not until his body finally gave in and forced him to drop. Scott knew that. He just hoped John would use some of that seemingly ever-present wisdom of his and rest _before_ that occurred.

'Goodnight John.'

'Goodnight Scott.' The younger counterpart hesitated, so Scott made no move to end their conversation first. That was a sign something else was on the second son's tongue. 'Happy Christmas.'

'Merry Christmas to you too, John.' There was no real motivation in either of them, it was just routine and Scott was grateful to John for it, although he was beginning to think he could live without it.

None of them were really in it. He definitely wasn't. Coping mechanisms just screamed at him to keep things running smoothly. Well… he'd throw that into the ocean.

It didn't matter anyway, John woke him from the uncomfortable sofa at ten past eight with an alert. It didn't seem like it would need anyone else so he bothered not in waking them, heading out alone.

The flight might give him chance to clear his head. Or to stuff it.

It was as sombre for this day and the next.

* * *

He set the decorations onto the table, making a start on unpacking the foil decorations and lights. He'd already set the ladder aside and as soon as he'd assembled a stream long enough to keep running with, purely to save his legs going up and down, he started hanging them from the corners. Where the decision to start on decorating _alone_ had come from, as opposed to relaxing and attempting to restore his back by sitting calmly on the sofa, he had no idea. He supposed it was the thought that maybe, just _maybe_ Christmas might be better this year if there was something already present.

Footsteps echoed past but he paid little notice. He was sure he'd fall from the ladder if he spared a look around.

'The blues don't work together Scott. You should alternate it with the silvers.'

 _Virgil._

No one else was _that_ level of picky on colours with decorations.

Now he looked around, noting the presence of the younger, evaluating his artistic touch.

'Very well.' He leaned back across unhooking the additional blue before attempting to locate the next silver from the pile on the top rung of the ladder. It was proving harder to locate than he thought.

The cheery, quick steps following were easily recognisable as Alan, bumbling in carrying - practically in front of him - a cardboard parcel. Scott was surprised he didn't tumble straight over onto the chairs. He jumped down enthusiastically instead.

'What's that?' He was surprised to hear Virgil's voice run simultaneously with his.

'Our calendar.'

'There's barely any days left.' Gordon stated as he came and sat beside Alan, Scott noted he descended via the stairs as opposed to Alan's well-used shortcut.

'There's five. One for each of us.' Alan cut over, informed.

There was indeed. It made his heart beat a little stronger to see Alan's restored enthusiasm, even Virgil's simple comment caused the same spark.

'There's four of us on Earth. How are you planning for John to open his?' Gordon questioned and Alan's face dropped for a moment, his eyes dulling as though he was physically travelling to the world of thought. 'Can I do the lights?' The aquanaut was up before Scott was even able to give him an answer, grabbing the leads he'd draped around his feet (stupidly), nearly pulling him from the ladder.

'Gordon!'

'Sorry! I always do them though.'

'With supervision.' Virgil piqued up, Gordon turning to him sharply.

'Virgil.'

'The first year you did them, you just leapt out of the pool.'

' _Virgil._ '

'You near electrocuted yourself!'

' _Virgil!'_

'What? It wasn't like it was a secret.' Clearly though, to the youngest it had been for Alan's smile was incredibly joyful and Gordon heaved exasperation through him.

Laughter was dancing in the eyes of the space pilot. 'You're worse than Scott with electrics.'

'Hey! Who fixed the fuse on the holo television for you?' Alan fell silently back into the comfort of the chair, beaten. Gordon turned and knelt to plug in the lights. Scott knew he'd be trying to nick the ladder in a moment.

In a moment… _that's a phrase. There's not a moment's peace here._

'You need to move the start of the silver chain up a bit, Scott. It won't fall in line with the blue one otherwise.'

'Thank you, Virgil.' He'd forgotten how irritating the constant direction could become and so far the tally was only on two.

'Yes, thank you Virgil. We should always let Scott know when his work isn't up to standard.'

This time Gordon did nearly receive an electric shock, the lights slipping from his hands. Scott tried to right himself, but still stumbled back off the ladder, narrowly catching himself before he fell completely. Virgil just smiled in silence, gazing on with what was readable only as happiness. He seemed the only one happy to be surprised. Alan's mouth gaped, his shock visible upon his features. Though he recovered speedily enough that he was soon on his feet, bounding up from his chair – still ignoring the existence of the stairs – and looping his arms around the elder spaceman's neck.

'John!'

'Surprise, bro.' Gordon was still shaking his hand out as though he really had caught a spark.

'You didn't tell me you were coming down.' Now he really was sounding like a father.

'I didn't know I was.' It was true John may have to disappear at any moment, so they'd make the most of these. 'Six days of gravity will be killing, but I'll manage.'

'You never know, a rescue may save you.' The fourth son was smiling as wide as ever with the thought he'd created another great humorous moment.

'Gordon, for this year, I'd like a Christmas without a rescue.' Virgil remarked, walking away. 'What are the chances of that?'

'Well it's been busy lately, but it seems to have gone quite quiet now. It's why I thought it alright to come down so early.' Gordon raised his brows to John's explanation, silent joy dancing around in his eyes at the answer.

'Can't argue with that.'

The piano began to sing with the tune of _'Good King Wenceslas'_. It was always one of dad's favourites and from a look Virgil seemed perfectly content to allow them the indulgence. His enjoyment from the simple task was clear in the freedom of his facial expressions. It made them all smile.

Scott climbed back up the ladder and tried to rectify Virgil's last piece of direction. He didn't want to waste time now.

'So now John will be able to open his door.'

'Sorry?' The elder looked down baffled at the youngest blonde who reached down and held up the Christmas designed cardboard.

'On the calendar!'

'You had me lost Alan.'

'He loses us all, John, don't worry.'

'Remember, he's mad as a bat at Christmas.'

Alan glared daggers at his fellow blonde and eldest brother in order as a warning. John just smiled, not a trace of weariness to be found, the same smile a picture on Virgil's face as he tapped across the keys fully in peace.

This year didn't seem to have the same effects on them all as the previous. Scott began to wonder if maybe they'd make it through unscathed this time.

In the background the music was never ending, yet once more the middle child threw in his ten pence worth.

'It still isn't right Scott.' Gordon and Alan were capable only of chuckling. John was at least trying to mask his laughter with traces of subtlety.

'Would you like to do it, Master Virgil?' He asked, looking over his shoulder. Virgil shook his head, continuing to play all the while.

'I wouldn't wish to break tradition, Scotty.'

He raised his brows as he returned to the task. 'No, of course you wouldn't. You've got the best job.' So called "supervising" always was the _best_ job to have. Virgil merely smiled. Scott took a breath before letting the foil chain drop and hang much to Alan's surprise. Usually he was incredibly picky about keeping all of their parent's original decorations in pristine condition.

'Let's get the tree down instead.'

'Yes!' Gordon exclaimed, throwing his arms high. He loved to decorate the tree and the bauble always to go on first was his darned glittered fish… they'd always tried to protest it wasn't at all Christmassy just because "it glittered", which was of course Gordon's argument. But Jeff Tracy, being Jeff Tracy, had bought it for his young son at the time regardless. Ever since the blasted inanimate thing _demanded_ to go first.

Virgil took the time to finish the last bar of music before dropping the lid and rising from his seat. He had always been very fussy about dust getting onto his and their mothers beloved piano. It was after all one of the only things their father actually moved with them from their home to the Island. It was probably one of their most precious possessions beside the Thunderbirds and held many memories of Christmas sing-a-longs. They'd have to rekindle that by themselves this year. Scott had no doubt it would happen as he made his way out of the living room, Gordon high on his tail.

'Wait!' Alan's call stopped him suddenly in his tracks, mind instantly conjuring the idea there _must_ be a disastrous problem waiting to occur. For that was the impulse Alan's desperate plea of a tone had given him.

He went to answer, but Gordon whacked into his back, making him realise he probably stopped one to quickly with the excited swimmer perusing him like there was no tomorrow.

'Ow.'

'Sorry.'

Virgil's distant chuckle received a glare from Gordon.

'What is it, Alan?' John asked finally, eyes stuck on the younger. Alan held up the calendar and for a few moments they all stared in confusion, Virgil coming to stand beside Scott in order to try and see.

'It's an advent calendar.' Gordon finally suggested to Alan's discontent.

'No.' He turned it around to himself and placed a finger on the centre before holding it out again, his action giving them a clear point of focus. 'There's a door twenty five.'

'And if today we'll open the twentieth…' Virgil started.

'We'd only need to the twenty fourth.' John finishing, having already worked out the five windows they'd each need to take the necessary turns Alan desired.

'We've never had one with twenty five before, have we?' Gordon frowned, posing his question with the upmost intrigue. He really could not recall it. Because they're hadn't been. It had always been up to twenty four, they'd taken it in rounds of six, giving everyone four doors to open. It seemed this year, Alan hadn't quite realised what he'd ordered.

'That's alright.' Scott added finally, because it didn't particularly matter that there was one extra.

'No, it's not! Who will open it?' Alan queried, fully in the throes of a dilemma. He wouldn't want to choose someone to open an extra day than everyone else, it simply wasn't what they did or what he was used to. For a long moment the silence remained before John's brow furrowed in deep thought and he eventually gazed across to Scott.

The elder quickly picked up on what the younger was thinking and nodded, turning as promptly to Alan as was possible. It seemed Gordon and Virgil had picked up on the vibe of the eldest having all the answers too as their gaze had also fallen upon him.

'We'll leave it for dad.'

The agreement didn't need voicing.

'Now let's get the tree.'

Alan set the calendar on the table, falling into step beside John as they headed off, Virgil's excitement clearly displayed upon his face as the real artistic feature was about to descend. Scott was just happy things were back to the way they should be, not _"normal"_ because they could never be: it just wasn't possible.

'My fish goes on first, remember.'

The chorus was unanimous, exact in pitch and tone. 'How could we forget.'

At least dad would be proud they'd continued on.

And one of these days, he'd return home and open that door… either that, or it would always wait, sealed shut for all time to pass it by, maybe even a thousand Christmas'.

It would wait.

They would wait... and continue in the meantime, for hope's sake.


End file.
